


The Note

by lockedlocke



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers is Captain America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 13:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18829471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedlocke/pseuds/lockedlocke
Summary: Some days, thinking is still hard.--It was after a little while that Steve learned how to pull Bucky out of it. Steve would kiss him goodbye on the top of his head in the morning, and if Bucky got up and out of bed then he would have a good day. If he remained laying down, Steve would just gently stroke his fingers through his hair and ask him on a real soft voice if he would get up.Somewhere, deep inside of him there was still an engraved need to do what he was told. So Bucky would force himself up from bed, and go lay down on the couch instead. Once Steve realised that, he left little notes. Dotting out just a handful of things for him to do during the day. Bucky, of course, couldn’t help himself and did all the things that Steve wrote down. And it felt… good.





	The Note

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely BirdJay, who is currently writing an amazing fic called Star Plan you all should go and check out!

Some days, thinking is still hard. 

Bucky can feel it in the morning if a day is going to be hard or not. When a day is hard, it’s starts off in the morning with an overwhelming desire to just stay in bed and do nothing at all. To just lay there and sleep into the next day in the hopes that it’ll be better. 

Steve’s gotten better at telling if it’s going to be a good day or a bad day now. It took him a little while, and at first there were plenty of weeks where Steve went off with the Avengers to save the world or raid a facility or god knows what, and come back in the evening, the next morning, or three days later and find Bucky still in bed. 

Still, he never grew frustrated with Bucky. He understood that it wasn’t easy, and he understood that Bucky needed time. Just as well as he understood that Bucky  _ needed _ to get up in order to get better. To lay in their bed and wallow in his own misery wasn’t going to solve a damn thing. 

It was after a little while that Steve learned how to pull Bucky out of it. Steve would kiss him goodbye on the top of his head in the morning, and if Bucky got up and out of bed then he would have a good day. If he remained laying down, Steve would just gently stroke his fingers through his hair and ask him on a real soft voice if he would get up. 

Somewhere, deep inside of him there was still an engraved need to do what he was told. So Bucky would force himself up from bed, and go lay down on the couch instead. Once Steve realised that, he left little notes. Dotting out just a handful of things for him to do during the day. Bucky, of course, couldn’t help himself and did all the things that Steve wrote down. And it felt… good. 

He had a chance to get up and do things, without having the responsibility of taking the initiative and making the choice of what to do himself. But by the time that Steve came home, Bucky usually felt a little bit better, because he  _ had _ done something with his day.

Didn’t mean it was always easy, hell, most of the time it was fucking hard. But he felt pleased with himself, and he had made Steve happy by doing every single thing on the list and feeling better himself. So for what it was worth, Bucky enjoyed it when Steve wrote him a little list. 

 

\--

 

“Morning Buck,” Steve whispers softly, as he stroked his fingers light as feathers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky curls up under the sheet into a ball, nuzzling his nose against the covers. Steve’s touch falters for a moment, but then as he kneels down beside the bed it picks up again. “I gotta go now, okay? Something’s happening down in Tulsa, so we gotta fly in. I’ll be back before dinner, though. It’s just a small thing, alright?” 

Bucky blinks, he looks up to Steve and then nods. He doesn’t  _ like _ it when Steve goes out with the other Avengers, but he doesn’t feel like he can stop him either. Bucky sighs a little and nods, rolling onto his back and forcing a small, weak smile to him to show him that he understood. 

Steve watches him for a moment longer with those curious eyes of his, tilting his head a little bit to the side as he does. There’s something thoughtful in his eyes. “I’ll leave you a note today, okay? Sleep for another hour or so, but get out of bed today for me?” Steve asks so sweetly, making it downright impossible to deny him. How could Bucky tell him no when Steve looked at him like that with so much consideration. So he sighs. 

“Alright,” he agrees and looks up to the ceiling. He’s not looking forward to it. But he’ll do it if eases Steve’s worry and makes him keep his focus on what he’s about to do when people inevitably are shooting at him. 

“Thank you,” Steve leans in and presses another kiss on the top of Bucky’s head before standing up and leaving the bedroom. Before he steps out he casts one last look over his shoulder and winks, or at least tries to. Both of his eyes shut when he does. It makes Bucky snort a little before he rolls over again and pulls the sheet back over his head and hides away from the world for an hour longer. 

 

\--

 

It’s longer than an hour before Bucky forces himself up out of bed. Frankly, it takes him two hours to pull together the willpower to just kick off the sheets and sit up on the edge of the bed. When he does that all he would rather do is just lay straight back down and pull the sheet back over him. 

But he made a promise to Steve. He stands up and leaves the bedroom. Somehow, Bucky will have to pull through the day. Wandering into the kitchen, he takes out a glass from the cupboard, fills it with water and drinks it. He feels the light start of a headache behind his eyes in his skull caused from sleeping too long or from the shit day that Bucky’s decided he undoubtedly is going to have. 

He spots the note on the kitchen table and stares at it for a moment. When he’s finished his glass of water, he fills it up again and goes to sit down by the table. He reaches for his glasses case in the fruit basket by the edge of the table and takes them out. Specially made just for him, with tinted lenses  to help ease potential headaches and migraines that plague him. 

Bucky pushes the thick rimmed black glasses on his nose and takes the note that Steve left behind for him, reading it as he sips on his water. 

 

\--

 

Hey Buck, 

I hope you slept for a little while longer. I’ve written down some things that I’d like for you to do today, if you could? These are your little missions for today, you can do them in any order you like.

 

  * Eat something nice for breakfast
  * Take a shower, brush your teeth, brush your hair, fresh clothes etc,
  * Water the plants
  * Feed the cat
  * Read a book that you enjoy
  * Go outside for a little bit in the sun (can be combined with reading a book)
  * Eat something for lunch that you like
  * Take a nap if your head hurts
  * Take a walk to the store and buy fruit (groceries too, if you want)
  * Try to talk to someone new
  * Prepare for dinner tonight



Lastly, this one is entirely optional, but I don’t want you to do this if it bothers you a lot okay? Then you can forgo all the other points in the list. If your head hurts real bad, you do whatever you want and whatever you need to, okay? You rest and you take care of yourself, make the apartment dark, drink water, just lay down, whatever you feel works the best for you then, you do. 

I should be back home again around seven. If you haven’t heard anything from me by five then you can be certain I’ll be back by then. Sam isn’t coming today, so if you need help with anything you’re free to call him and he’ll come right over. Don’t push yourself ok? I love you, take care of yourself and I’ll be back real soon. 

Stevie

 

\--

 

Bucky frowns a little at the note that Steve left for him, and reads it over a couple more times. He finds it a little overwhelming. A long list with a lot of things to do and a lot of responsibilities to go through with in one day. But he also knows that Steve won’t be angry at him for skipping a few things on the list if he absolutely has to. 

Doesn’t mean that Bucky wants to, now he’s been given a set of tasks to do and he wants to prove it to Steve that he’s not as hopeless he seems. He glances up to the clock and sees that it’s already eleven. He’s got about eight hours to hit every little point on the list, but some are easier to do than others and take less than a minute. 

Bucky finishes his glass of water and puts the note back down. Best get started, he thinks, and heads off to the bathroom. He spends about an hour in there, taking a shower and washing himself. It does help chase the tension away in the muscles in his neck. So while he doesn’t necessarily feel  _ better _ when stepping out of the shower, he definitely feels  _ different _ than he did before. 

He brushes his hair like he was told and ties it to the back of his head in a bun. He brushes his teeth and dresses in fresh clothes. He takes a shirt from Steve, mostly because they fit him across his chest, unlike his own. He’s still stretching those out. He pulls on a black pair of sweatpants and thick socks before wandering back out to the kitchen. 

Bucky doesn’t feel particularly hungry, but eating something might ease his upcoming headache. He slides the pair of glasses back on and rummages through the fridge for something nice that will still get approved for breakfast. Just some water and a slice of toast won't do it in Steve’s book, if he asks. So in the end Bucky settles with a cup of vanilla yoghurt and mixes it with Steve’s Blackberry and currant muesli mix. He grabs the last kiwi and cuts it in two, taking a small spoon to scoop it out. 

He takes his time when he eats, pulling his legs up against his chest and enjoying the silence of the apartment even if he misses the bustle that Steve causes when he walks left and right, talking to Bucky and at times even talking to himself. Bucky finishes eating about ten minutes after he’s sat down and washes up the mug and spoon, tosses the remnants of the kiwi in the trash and turns back to the list.

He grabs a pen from Steve’s notebook and crosses out the first two points of the list and reads it through again. Water the plants. 

Bucky puts the note and pen down and looks to the variety of green that Steve’s got put up on his window seal. As he looks at them he’s got the nagging feeling in his chest that he’s supposed to use  _ something _ to water it with. Something special designed specifically for that purpose, and he knows that it’s yellow. But at that moment he can’t think for the life of him what it is, let alone where to find it. Groaning a little in frustration, he turns to the kitchen cupboards and starts to open them. 

He finds a measuring cup and fills that up with water instead. It’ll do the job just as well, he decides. He takes a tour through the apartment, first touching in the pots of every single plant to judge how dry the soil is. If he finds it dry, Bucky adds a little water. If he still finds it moist, than he just skips it and moves on to the next one. For the little lemon tree that Steve got Bucky as a present only a month ago, he pauses and adds some nourishment as well, diligently following the little instruction pamphlet that the florist had put down in the dirt for them. He fills up the measuring cup once so he can give the two plants in the bedroom and the small one in the bathroom some water as well, then with the last bit he has he goes back out to the hallway and dunks the remains in the pot of their rubber tree. 

When Bucky crosses out the third point of the list and it’s not even noon yet he’s starting to feel pleased with himself. He’s already a quarter done, if he does everything during the day. The next one he decides to do is to read. He can’t feed the cat, if the cat isn’t around to be fed. He skips that for later. He also decides to take Steve’s advice and combine reading with sitting outside for a little bit. It seems warm, the sun certainly does, so it’ll feel nice to have it warm his skin, especially if he’s laying in the lawn chair they’ve put up on their balcony and he can bake himself against the heat of the red bricks. 

Bucky goes to collect his book, Chasm City, and his cigarettes before going outside to the balcony. Now with the sun beating down on them the lawn chair is dry.Bucky settles in it. Dragging the ashtray closer to him, Bucky lights a cigarette, props up the book against his thighs and begins to read. 

He isn’t entirely sure how long he reads, and he doesn't bother looking up to the position of the sun to judge it. He smokes a couple of cigarettes and feels nice and warm in the spring sun. In a way even enjoying the ambience of traffic and people minding their own lives on the streets below. After a while, his eyes begin to feel heavy and his head tired from the effort that comes with reading the book. 

So he finishes his chapter and rests the book against his stomach, tilts back his head and shuts his eyes. 

 

\--

 

It’s the needy little scream that wakes him up. Bucky doesn’t startle, he just tilts his head to rest it against his shoulder and opens one eye. Sat just in front of the flower pots is a ginger tomcat. He’s got another scratch over his face, but seems a little fatter since Bucky saw him the previous morning. 

“What do you want?” Bucky asks him, feeling just a little bit annoyed to be woken up from his nap with no consideration at all. Sure he sleeps a lot, but that doesn’t mean that every minute he spends asleep is  _ good _ sleep. The cat, which Steve had creatively named Tom, turns his head again and lets out the same loud needy meow again. 

“I don’t believe for one second you can’t find food,” Bucky sighs in frustration and removes the book from his stomach and gets up. Tom meows at him, slightly different this time and more angry, signalling Bucky to hurry. He rolls his eyes and steps back into the apartment. Steve’s spoiled that damn cat. 

Bucky goes out to the kitchen and takes out a can of tuna from the cupboard. On his way back out to the balcony he opens the can and sets it down. Tom, as tame as he’s gotten by having been fed by them for the past six months, waits patiently for him by the glass door. He’s yet to take his first step into the actual apartment. Bucky sets down the tuna and instantly Tom begins to eat, purring. 

Bucky takes a seat in the lawn chair again and lights another cigarette, watching the ginger tomcat eat all the food that’s been dished up for him. It takes a couple of minutes, the cat isn’t in a hurry, which isn’t a problem because neither is Bucky. 

When Tom finishes he sits straights up, licks around his mouth and then lets out the same scream of a meow to Bucky. This time it’s to thank him, then in that careless way that only cats manage, he gets up and jumps up to the railing and with confidence jumps to the apartment across, then makes his way down the ladder. He’s got what he’s come for and he’s not one to linger around. 

Bucky finishes his cigarette. Takes his book and the can, and goes back into the apartment. He just drops the book on the couch and goes to the kitchen to get rid of the little can. He checks over the list again and this time crosses out _feed the cat,_ _read a book that you enjoy, go outside for a little bit in the sun_ and _take a nap if your head hurts._ With the nap and the bit of fresh air his head doesn’t hurt anymore, but Bucky doesn’t risk it and take off his glasses. 

There’s only four points left on his little list for the day. Bucky glances up to the clock and sees that it’s only two in the afternoon, so he’s got another five hours on his own which should give him more than enough time. 

Eat something for lunch that he enjoys. Bucky frowns at that one. He doesn’t feel particularly hungry just yet after his late breakfast. So he skips that one for now. The next point however, makes him want to groan. 

_ Take a walk to the store and buy fruit (groceries too, if you want) _

No, Bucky doesn’t want to do that, at all. But a glance at the fruit bowl, showing only one pathetically small red apple and a banana that’s more brown than yellow is the clear sign that he  _ should _ go to the store and buy fruit. And if he’s there, he might as well already do groceries. 

Bucky loves and hates delivery food equally. He loves it on bad days, when they can just have food brought straight to their door and they don’t have to prepare anything. They just have to open the containers and eat. But he hates it, because it brings a bunch of strangers up to their door and that means a bunch of  _ strangers _ know where they  _ live _ . 

He knows that they need groceries. He doesn’t even have to open the fridge to confirm that. If Steve’s written it on the list then he knows there’s not enough food in the house for Bucky to make a proper meal for dinner that evening. And he knows that it’ll force him to go out and buy what’s needed for whatever he’s had in mind.

Grumbling, a little annoyed by the way that the sneaky bastard can twist Bucky’s arm like that, (all well meaning of course, Bucky just likes to grumble) he grabs a note and starts writing down what he should get. 

Fruit makes at the top of the list, and the rest comes rather easily. It’s not that hard writing a list of what they need, he just needs to top up on what he thinks they’re running low on. The tricky part, of course, is picking out priorities. Sure, he could take the car and go massive shopping (not that he’s in the mood for that) but Steve wrote  _ take a walk _ to the store. So he has to just get what he can carry which is, with the help of the metal arm, a lot. 

But with a small amount of groceries that means that he just has to pick out a handful things in the store. Those decisions are hard enough. Does he get regular Coke? Coca Cola light? Diet Coke? Cherry flavoured? Coca Cola life? What if they need Fanta? Regular Fanta? Lemon? Grape? Apple? What about tea? Lipton? Twinings? Tetley? Green tea? Red tea? 

There’s an overwhelming amount of choices that he’s got to filter between. When he goes alone he finds that it’s a tiring experience that on bad days make him want to cry in the car. Just because the sheer quantity and having to decide. On good days, it doesn’t phase him as much and he grabs what’s familiar, occasionally something new, because he’s curious. Today is not one of those days. 

So Bucky cheats a little when he makes his list. When he writes down tea, he writes down the specific brand they’re running low on and hopes that it’s in stock. In the end, the list that Bucky completes just mentions fruit (specifically within brackets he writes bananas, kiwis, apples and a melon). Tea (Lipton, Bedtime Bliss and yellow label). Chicken (fillets, enough for two, just for one meal). Sauce (Uncle Ben’s, Sweet and Sour Original). Yoghurt (Siggi’s, Vanilla). Coke (regular). 

Before Bucky leaves, he goes to the bedroom to get changed. He would love to go to the store in just sweats, but that’s something he can’t even allow himself to do no matter how bad he feels. Once upon a time, he had been as vain as a peacock, and that still clung on him to a certain extent. These days he didn’t worry much about how he looked. He knew he looked like a mess, but damn it, that was just behind closed doors. 

As soon as he left he wanted to keep up some form of appearance that he had all of his shit together. He strips out of the sweats and leaves them on the bed. He dresses in a pair of jeans and checks himself in the mirror. Jeans and a long sleeved shirt isn’t all that fabulous, but he looks somewhat in control with his glasses and with his hair tied back, and that’s all he aims for. He grabs his wallet and goes out to the hallway, opening the drawer off the console table and digs around until he finds his set of keys and Steve’s card, which he stuffs in his wallet. 

Bucky takes one last look around the apartment to make sure all the windows are locked, the glass door to the balcony is closed, and then grabs the note on the table with him and the woven grocery bag from underneath the sink. He looks at Steve’s once more and sighs at the idea of talking to someone new, stores the thought in the back of his head and then leaves the apartment. 

 

\--

 

The grocery store is as nearly always less dramatic than Bucky always plays it up to be. It’s a Thursday in the middle of the day, meaning that there aren’t that many other customers around beside him, which is something he’s grateful for, it makes him feel less stressed when he lingers around the fruit section. Or at least, it  _ feels  _ like he lingers there for half an hour trying to decide on the ripest fruits. When he moves on to find the chicken for dinner and checks his watch he realises he survived the whole ordeal in less than five minutes, and it’s just his mind playing tricks on him. 

The chicken goes easier, the store only offers from the same make, and he just has to pick a packet that contains four fillets which is enough for them, they might even have a small portion of left over, but that’s not bad. It’s not unusual one of them warms up the leftovers later in the evening for a snack. 

The tea takes a little bit longer, mostly because Bucky has to search amongst an ocean of other brands before he finds Lipton. But because he settled on Lipton before he allows himself to ignore all the other makes and push them out of the back of his head. When he finally finds the two kinds he’s looking for, he tosses them in his basket and leaves as quickly as he can. 

By the time that he’s collected the sauce and the yoghurt, Bucky feels ready to leave. He waits almost impatiently for a woman with three toddlers to grab the five different sodas that they need all while blocking his reach for the regular coke. As soon as his fingers close around a bottle, he darts for the registers and gets the hell out of there. 

 

\--

 

It’s not until Bucky makes it back to the apartment and has let himself in that he remembers he was supposed to talk to someone new. He groans to himself and presses his forehead against the door of the apartment, feeling both angry and frustrated with himself. The last thing that he wants to do is to go out again. 

With it nagging at the back of his head, he goes to the kitchen and unpacks the groceries. He checks the clock again, four. He hasn’t received a message from Steve that he’ll be late, and Bucky’s gut feeling tells him that Steve will be home on time. With a little sigh, he calms down, three hours more to go on his own and then Steve can come and take over all responsibility. 

When he’s finished unpacking, Bucky crosses out  _ Take a walk to the store and buy fruit (groceries too, if you want) _ and  _ Eat something for lunch that you like _ . Leaving only two points on his list before he’s complete. Talk to someone, and prepare dinner. He doesn’t have to start dinner yet so he leaves it. For lunch, he grabs one of the kiwi’s he bought and cuts it in half. It’s not much, but he likes it and if he eats anything more he won't be able to manage dinner. 

The sun is still out and Bucky wanders out to the balcony again, picking up his book from the couch and settles in the lawn chair to continue reading. 

He reads undisturbed for at least an hour. He checks his phone a little bit past five. Still nothing from Steve, so he’ll be back home by seven like he promised. The sun is starting to lose heat now and it’s growing  chilly, but Bucky decides to finish reading the chapter he’s on before he goes back in. His focus gets disturbed when he hears the loud, needy wail of a meow again. 

This time it’s above him, but Bucky reacts to Tom nonetheless and looks to the apartment across, and a floor above him. Tom is sitting on the fire escape there by an open window and lets out that scream again. Bucky watches him for a moment with interest. Then two hands open the window further. 

A young, dark skinned girl with thick black curls leans out of the window and reaches down to pet the cat, who stands up a little to meet her legs. Bucky can hear him purr from here. Then Tom meows at the young girl again. She can’t be much older than thirteen, still a perfect mix between a child and a young woman. “You hungry, little guy?” She asks the cat, and doesn’t seem to notice that Bucky’s watching them. 

“He lies,” Bucky blurts out before thinking. The girl gets a surprised expression written all over her face, and when she leans a little bit further out of the window she spots Bucky a level down. “He lies, I fed him like three hours ago. He’s had food,”  Bucky explains, feeling a little bit sheepish at just butting in to her moment with Tom. 

“Oh, you’re a liar now?” The young girl says and smirks down to Tom, who meows again, thinking by the happy tone that she uses that he’ll get what he wants. She scratches him behind his ear again and Tom leans against her touch. “He comes here every day begging for food, does he do that to you, too?”

Bucky nods in response, resting his elbow against the armrest of his lawn chair and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. “Every day around noon, it’s almost like clockwork,” he confesses to her. The young girl clicks with her tongue and looks down to Tom almost disapprovingly. He moves his tail slowly as he looks up to her, and Bucky can imagine the slow, almost lazy blink of his eyes. 

“Here he is, comes every day at five or later. Like clockwork. Guess he picks up lunch with you and Mr. Rogers and he comes for dinner here, huh? We bought him his own bag of dry cat food here,” The girl rests her chin in both of her hands as she remains hanging half out of the window. Doing that makes her look younger than she really is. “What does he get with you two?” 

“Tuna, little tins of Tuna,” Bucky tells her, gesturing with his other hand the approximate size of the little tins. The little girl makes an  _ ahh _ sound and nods a couple of times. Then she looks back down to Tom, a bemused smile adorned her features and Bucky can tell she’s got dimples in both cheeks. They’re cute features on her round face, Bucky thinks, and when she grows into a woman she’ll be beautiful. 

“What are we going to do with you, huh? You’ve already eaten for today,” She hums and clicks her tongue again. Tom meows again, even louder than usual to get her moving. She’s been doing nothing else but hanging out of the window rather than serving him his food. 

“I think you can still feed him,” Bucky says, suddenly and out of the blue feeling a little bit bad for potentially ruining her routine with the cat. But how could he have known? They’ve fed Tom for the past six months without ever knowing that he also got dinner in the evenings. Considering he has his own bag with the little girl she’s probably been doing the same for the last few months as well. It can’t hurt, he’s a stray. He could use any piece of food that he gets handed. 

“You think?” She asks and looks at him again. Her eyes are dark, intelligent and thoughtful. Giving Bucky the expression that there’s much more going on in her head than she’d ever dare to let on. Bucky just nods in response, not really sure what to say in this situation. The girl leans back into her apartment and disappears into the window. Bucky sits and watches, hearing how Tom already is purring in anticipation. 

From inside the apartment, he can hear the young girl talk to someone, another woman which he guesses is her mother, in a language he can’t understand. HYDRA may have bashed many languages in his head, but besides Arabic they had never really bothered to teach him any of the other languages spoken in Africa. 

Bucky puts the bookmark in between the pages of his book just as she makes her appearance again in the window, leans in and over and puts down a little bowl on the fire escape. Tom stands up, meows and brushes himself against her arm before he starts to eat. 

“We can make an agreement.” The young girl crosses her arms on the window seal but doesn't take her eyes of the cat. Bucky waits for her to continue, and she takes his silence as a  _ go ahead _ . “You and Mr. Rogers can feed him in the middle of the day. I can’t, I’m in school during weekdays. But I can feed him in the middle? And we can share every other weekend, maybe? I spend the every other weekend at my dad’s place and my mom won’t feed him when I’m gone,” she says and looks at him with those dark eyes which seem to glitter in expectation. 

“We can do that,” Bucky agrees, wanting to give her a piece of mind for when she’s with her father. She makes him think of his little sisters when they were that age. He had never been able to tell them no, how could he tell her no? “Which weekend are you with your dad?” 

“Uneven weeks. I leave on Fridays though, he comes and picks me up after school so I can’t feed him on Fridays. I don’t come back until like, eight on Sundays. So could you feed him starting Friday evenings? Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine,” Bucky tells her with a small nod. The young girl lights up at that, her dimples become visible again with that wide smile of hers. “We call him Tom, cause you know… Tomcat,” Bucky shrugs, feeling a little silly. “Do you call him anything?” He asks, watching her blink. Then she shakes her head, sending her black curls flying everywhere. 

“No. But I like Tom though,” She says with a rapid nod and smile to him. Then she glances back to Tom as he now sits up and licks around his mouth, then a front paw and begins to clean his face. The girl leans out again and picks up the bowl. Bucky can’t hear any rattle from the dry food and assumes that Tom finished all of it. “I’ve seen you, you know? You and Mr. Rogers,” 

“Oh?” Bucky raises an eyebrow, not entirely sure on how to react to such a statement. 

“I’m not spying or anything. But I see you two on the balcony together sometimes, you know,” She shrugs and sets down the bowl somewhere on the inside of her apartment. Bucky nods, he knows. When you live in an apartment building you end up learning about the lives of your neighbours no matter how you feel about the matter. He and Steve spend a lot of time out on the balcony so it’s really not that big of a surprise. And knowing that Captain America lives in the building across will undoubtedly make people look. “Are you two like, married?”

Bucky snorts and shakes his head. “No, we’re not married,” Bucky tells her, worrying for a short moment on how to even explain the complexity of a relationship that is him and Steve before realising… it’s not a big deal. She’s a young girl who’s only lived in this generation and this time in the world. For her people being gay and men being with men have always been a fact. There’s no need for him to play it up. He doesn’t owe her an explanation, despite her age. “We’re just together. Not married, maybe one day,” 

“Oh,” she nods, then places her hands on the windowsill and stretched out. “Well, I gotta go, I got homework. Math,” She pulls a face at that and Bucky snickers a little. “I’m Dahlia, by the way,” She finally introduces herself. 

“Bucky,” Bucky tells her just before she waves, bids him goodbye and slips inside her apartment again. Tom looks after her, then looks down to Bucky, meows, and then makes his leave by climbing the fire escape further up. 

 

\--

 

Steve does come home nearly at seven on the dot like he promised. Bucky’s already made the chicken with the sweet and sour sauce from the store. Though, he thinks it tastes more sweet than anything. The rice cooker is prepared and filled with rice and water, they just have to flip the switch on and Bucky figures he could wait with that until Steve comes home. 

He’s put on a little bit of music while he was waiting and crossed out the last two points of his list.  _ Prepare for dinner tonight  _ and  _ Try to talk to someone new. _ It took him a little moment to realise it, but Dahlia and their custody agreement of Tom counts as talking to someone new. He had no idea she had lived there, and upon getting to know her it now felt like he had unveiled an entire new chapter about Tom’s life that neither of them knew about. 

“God, that smells good,” Steve says as he enters the kitchen, lifts up the lid from the pan to check out the chicken and the sauce, and then turns his focus to Bucky. Steve smiles at the sight of him and comes over, leaning down to press a kiss on the top of Bucky’s head. Bucky scrunches up his nose a little bit he enjoys the kiss nonetheless and tilts his head back a little to look at him. “I missed you,” Steve confesses, then sits down on the chair in front of him. 

“I missed you, too.” Bucky takes his glass of water and takes a sip, then pushes the glasses a bit further up his nose. Steve takes the note from the middle of the table and flips it so he can read it. He positively beams when he realises that everything has been crossed out. 

“You did everything!” Steve says, and puts the note back down. He doesn’t belittle Bucky by telling him that he’s happy or proud of him, and Bucky appreciates it. “You feeling any better?” 

“A bit,” Bucky reveals with a nod. It’s the truth. Some part of him is still wishing that he could have been laying in bed all day. But he still feels both happy and pleased with what he accomplished, no matter the amount of sighing and groaning he did while doing the tasks set out for him. 

“That’s good.” Steve takes one final look at the note and then pushes it away before curiously asking: “So, who did you talk to?” 

Bucky smiles at Steve, and begins telling him the secret life of Tom, and their neighbour across named Dahlia, and their newfound custody agreement. 


End file.
